Too Grand for Words (BookStrand Publishing Romance) (33 page)

He turned toward Dane. “You’re lucky I don’t fucking kill you right now. Are you out of mind talking to her like that? I will never share Moira—do you understand me?” He glared at his brother. “I know what she does to me. I’m not going to blame you for what you want, but Moira is going to be my wife. If that sounds possessive, that’s too bad. Her trust means everything to me. I love you, brother, but I will fucking make sure you never eat solid food again or feel with your fingers if you ever touch her.” There—it was on the table. “Let yourself out.” He slammed his glass on the counter and followed Moira to bed.

* * * *

She hadn’t made it halfway across the bedroom when he had her from behind, stopping her. Moira pulled against his arms, but his grip tightened. “How much of that did you hear?” He slid his hands under her negligee, roaming to her hips then up to her waist. His fingers snaked up her soft skin to gather a breast in each hand, massaging them, squeezing the tender points. His shaft jumped with anticipation as it always did. A little gasp escaped her lips when he took possession of her body.

“All of it, I think,” she said weakly.

He wanted to believe it was just his touch that triggered a slow burn to her passion, but his jealousy said otherwise. She trembled in his arms, and anger mixed with love engulfed him. Only he could do this to her, but suddenly he wasn’t sure. A carnal feeling grew from his insatiable well of possessiveness over her, powered by a deep need. “Would you want that?” he whispered in her ear. His right hand snaked down her stomach, sliding across her firm clit and into her folds. He groaned, feeling her silk. “You’re so wet already, baby.”

Jesus, she made him hard just thinking of loving her. She had from day one. “You can tell me, Moira. Would you want me to hold you like this while his head lay between your legs and his tongue teased you, his lips making love to you?” Her body stiffened in his arms.

“Steven, don’t.”

Her words came out panting. His touch turned her on, or maybe it was the thought of his brother. “Whatever you want in this world, it’s yours, Moira. If you want him and I in our bed once—together—I’ll give it you.” His lips bit at the pulse in her neck as his left thumb circled her firm nipple. The thought of loving her together with his brother, making her sweet body sing and come in their hands, suddenly caused a wave of hunger. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t stop the damn thoughts from pouring into his mind.

He swung her around and tore the negligee from her body, ripping the silk in half and letting it fall to the floor. His gaze fell to the sway of her waist, and the flare of her hips. He dropped to his knees, his tongue darting between her folds, lapping at her firm clit. His tongue lashed at its trapped victim.

She cried out with pleasure as he plunged two fingers inside of her, feeling her open, her wetness drenching his hand. He fingered her faster as her head fell back, and she grabbed his shoulders for balance. Hungry for her, he ate her like a starving man, unable to get enough of her.

She liked it slow and sensual. He knew that by now. Although it took all of his restraint, that’s how he loved her. Right now, he wasn’t doing that at all. He yanked his fingers out of her. She thrust her hips toward him, not wanting them to leave her body. “Or would you like it if I watched, while he did this to you.”

He picked her up in his arms and practically threw her on the bed. His breath came hard and heavy. Tearing his pants off, he thrust himself into her, pulling her legs around his hips. He drove himself deep and pulled out just as quickly. Her body responded with violent shivers, her channel becoming even wetter as she cried and gasped with their joining. He grabbed her arms and pulled them above her head, trapping them there. His shaft plunged possessively to the hilt inside her. Carnal rage drove him to possess her.

Her body arched. “Steven, I only want you inside me. I only want you loving me. Don’t screw me like your brother would,” she cried out.

He stopped instantly, her words shattering his anger. What he was doing—was Neanderthal at best. He gently slid out of her and folded her into his arms. “God, Moira, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” His brother’s desires weren’t her fault, and his own insecurities weren’t her fault either. What the fuck was he thinking?

Moira pulled him to her, kissing his lips gently. He brushed her cheek, drawing a wisp of hair to the side.

“Steven, how do you think I feel?” she asked softly. “Look at all the women who openly trip on their own feet when they walk past you. Don’t you think that every day I wonder when you’re going to come to your senses, and one of them is going to attract you? I have a right to think that way, but you don’t.”

He rolled onto the bed, pulling her up to straddle his lap as he leaned against the headboard. He closed his eyes. “I already know what Dane wants. He wants you,” he said, unable to suppress the anger totally. “And he looks just like me.”

She threaded her fingers through his hair. “I have walked past thousands of men, Mr. Porter, and not one of them has made me feel the way I do with you.” She looked directly into his eyes as if making sure he could see the truth. “And I would have walked past Dane, too, regardless of what he looks like. But I saw you, heard you, felt you. I haven’t had a single day go by with a set of dry panties.” She blushed with embarrassment.

He grinned at her honest revelation, looping his arms around her waist as she lifted her hips, and brought her sweet channel down, taking his shaft inside of her.

“I want you, not your brother. My body desires you, not him. You aren’t the same at all.” She paused. “He’ll never be the man you are.” Her hips began to sway with an erotic dance, his erection growing inside her. “And I’ll be beside you until you come to your senses.”

He stopped her motion. Looking into her eyes, he saw she meant it. “No, Moira, I’m not using you till someone else grabs my attention.” He leaned forward to kiss her lips. When he released her soft mouth, her eyes remained closed. He still loved when she did that. “I’ve had it all, I’ve done it all, and the only woman my heart and mind has ever wanted is you.”

She didn’t believe him. He knew that look already. “I’m afraid to tell you this, but it will always be you, in this life, and in the next—and the one after that. I will always find you. Whether we’re toddlers in a playpen or we only find each other at eighty. If there is more than one life to live—I will always want to live it with you.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and she tried to hide them by dropping her head, but he caught her chin and made her look at him. “Moira, you never cry in front of me. You never do a lot of things in front of me. You always hide your heart from me.” It bothered him, as if she didn’t want him to see that she was human and had moments of anger and sadness like everyone else.

Moira shook her head, fighting the tears.

“I know you love me, even though you don’t say it. I also know you’re afraid to say it.” Her expression twisted into pure sadness as his words hit their mark. “When you finally trust me, I know you will.” He gently wiped the tears from her cheeks. “One day you will.” He understood her so completely, and although many people thought he wasn’t a temperate man, he had all the patience in the world for Moira. She had his respect and his love.

She reached up tentatively to capture his cheeks. Her gaze strayed to the ceiling as if she were trying to decide whether to say what was on her mind or not. He waited.

She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment as her eyes searched his. She nodded but said nothing. He craned his neck, his own brow rising in amusement at her expectant look.

Very carefully, she said, “If…you…mess around on me, I will bust your nut.”

“Jesus, Moira.” He barked with laughter and rolled her over on the bed, hovering above her. “Tell me you love me.”

“Nope.” She jerked her head to the right in a playful refusal.

He gently steered it back to look at him. Her sweet smile puckered her cheeks.

“Fine, I love you,” she admitted in her sexy bedroom tone.

He gave her a lopsided grin. “That’s right, you do. You know what else?” She tried to read his mysterious look. He held his breath for a second with the thought that entered his mind, but decided against voicing it.

“All right, what’s that look about, I’m out of guesses.”
  

His little voice never lied to him. It had been saying a lot lately, and if it was true, he couldn’t wait. “Nothing, sweetheart.” His heart swelled with the idea blooming in his mind.

She gave him one of her peekaboo looks. “Mr. Porter, are you keeping secrets again?”

“I told you I keep my promises.” Even the one’s he didn’t voice to her.

“What promise?”

He slowly twined his fingers through hers and stretched her arms far above her head. “I won’t be going into the studio tomorrow,” he said.

“Why not?”

His shaft, already hard, teased her silky opening, sending shivers of excitement through him. “Something important has come up,” he teased.

His lips found the firm peak of her breast, and he sucked it into his mouth, biting it gently. She made him forget about everything when her hips shot up, and her wet channel consumed him. Her muscles clenched his erection making him shudder with pleasure. “Man, I love when you do that.” He took control of her mouth as the fire inside of him ate him alive.

That night and until the next, he made good on his promise that he had made to her in Las Vegas. He loved her for twenty-four hours straight, loving her in every way he knew. If it took a hundred days or a hundred years he would earn her trust, deserve her love. His brother could go to hell. She loved him. Nothing could make him waver from her. Nothing or no one could ever come between them.

She missed the changing of the seasons living in California. Basically, the weather was not so warm, warm, and hot. The month of January brought unusually wet weather, but the forecaster called for smoking hot temperatures the following weekend.

She and Steven decided to have a Sunday barbeque. They invited Steven’s entire extended family, cousins, aunts, uncles, and many close friends. Before the big wedding, not to mention the Oscars next month, they wanted a family celebration. Of course, it would be all Steven’s family, but she didn’t mind at all.

She’d stayed up half the night making side dishes until Steven leaned in the kitchen entryway, shaking his head. With his arms crossed lazily on his chest, he watched her.

“It’s two in the morning. You’re not feeding a large country, ya know.”

“No, just a small one,” she replied.

“Sweetheart, you could throw dogs on the grill and they’d be fine with it.” He shook his head. “Margarite can help tomorrow, if you’d stop chasing her out of the kitchen.”

“I let Margarite help,” she argued.

Margarite had taken care of Steven’s home for years. Moira liked her a lot. She had to practically drag her to the patio for a break when she’d first started living there. Eventually, Margarite caved, and they spent some great afternoons talking about her family in Mexico and in the States. Both of them were expats when it came right down to it. She secretly appreciated the help and the company, but she wouldn’t tell Steven that.

Steven strode to the oven and switched it off, curling her in his arms. “Bed, now,” he ordered.

“Fine, I’ll come in a minute.”

“Nope.” He reached down and swung her into his arms. “Now.”

“Steven, you’re such a caveman.”

“You bring it out in me, sweetheart.”

He eyed her closely. It hadn’t been the first time he’d done that recently. “How’s your stomach?” he asked.

“It’s better,” she lied.

“Like hell it is. Have you gone to the doctor yet?”

“It’s just the flu or nerves,” she said, brushing the wall of the hallway with her fingers as he carried her to the bedroom.

He sat her gently on the bed. “You look tired, Moira.”

“Thanks, Mr. Charming.”

His fingers dropped to the buttons on her blouse. He undid them, revealing her breasts caught in a baby blue bra. “Seriously, I want you to go to the doctor next week. No excuses.” He dipped his hands inside her skirt, and the smile on his lips told her he enjoyed the feel of her skin as he slipped the cloth down her legs. With a flick of his fingers, her bra snapped open. He pushed her shoulders gently back against the pillow. “Everything will go fine tomorrow. After that, you’re going to rest.”

“There’s no time to rest, Steven.”

“Ms. Viterra, you’re either going to sit and rest or I’ll be tying you down, which would you prefer?” he asked, sliding into bed beside her and wrapping her in his arms.

She wiggled free. “Steven—” She sat up, and placed her hand on his chest. She had to get this over with now, because it had been driving her nuts.

He let out a sigh and pushed himself up on the pillows because he could see she wanted to talk about something. “Moira, we’ve got six hours to sleep, and the clock is counting down. You need to rest.”

“I’ve been looking for your brother Kyle,” she said quickly.

His entire body tensed. “Don’t look for him, Moira.”

“I want him to come to the wedding. No one is telling me anything. I don’t understand other than it’s obvious there’s history there.”

“You won’t find him, nor do I want you to,” he said shortly. “Let’s get some sleep.”

“Kyle is your brother, but for some reason you’ve all shunned him. Why?”

“He made his choices in life.”

Steven’s tone turned cold, but she could hear bitterness and something else as well. “You miss him.”

Steven eyed the ceiling. “I don’t miss him. I don’t give a shit what he does or where he is. And neither should you, now let’s get some sleep.”

“Steven—”

He grasped her arm firmly. “Moira, don’t look for him. Leave it alone,” he ordered.

She contemplated pushing the issue, although it was obvious Steven wasn’t going to be forthcoming. “Fine.”

“I know that—fine.” He turned his gaze to her. “You can’t fix this. Do you understand me?”

The sharp anger in his eyes made her pause. “Unless he’s an axe murderer, I think you’re being childish. What could be so bad?”

“Moira, you’re like a bloody hound dog. I want you”—he pulled her into his arms—“to forget about Kyle, like the rest of us. He’s probably dead anyway.”

There was no missing the sadness in Steven’s voice this time. “He’s part of your family, your own brother. I can find him, just tell me where to start.”

“Moira, please. You have to trust me. You can’t change this, and I don’t want you to.” He kissed the top of her head. “Sleep, sweetheart.” His hand strayed to her stomach, massaging it gently.

She snuggled into his side, and draped her arm across his chest. Her mind tossed the possibilities around until sleep took her.

* * * *

Sunday morning arrived quickly, and the day bloomed with blue skies and blistering heat. She fussed over his family, making sure everyone had what they needed. She liked doing it, and she found she loved being part of his big family.

When his parents arrived, she greeted them with warm hugs. Since her parents had already passed, his mother glommed on to her as if she was the most cherished prize in the world. They saw eye to eye in the first ten minutes, and she was sure she loved his mother in the first thirty. The feeling was mutual according to Steven.

Steven teased her all the time, saying his dad, hard assed for his entire life, never giving him or his brother a break, turned to putty in her hands. For a Supreme Court judge, one of the toughest around by reputation, his dad didn’t seem tough at all. Then again, she was used to tough from her own profession. Daniel Porter just seemed like one of the guys to her, and she related to him easily. They actually talked about the marine industry for hours, since Steven’s dad was a weekend sailor. His parents had owned a sailing yacht for years. She called it a rag hanger, and his father busted a gut laughing.

Steven was sure his dad would only have been happier if he had decided to marry a mermaid. She shared her stories of the different posts she’d been given over the years and some of her more popular incidents. “He thinks you’re a little slice of heaven,” Steven had whispered to her during one visit with his parents. “Guess we have some similarities after all.”

* * * *

While Moira entertained on the patio, he took his post at the barbeque, as any good man should.

“Uncle Steven, where’s Auntie Moira?” He turned to see the twins staring up at him. They were identical, like he and his brother.

“Where’s my hello first?” he said, crouching down, and they flew into his arms. “You haven’t been giving me much attention lately, little ladies. Are you going to forget about me now that you’ve got Auntie Moira to torment?” he teased.

“Nooooo.” They giggled together, and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Where’s your dad?” he asked.

“Over there,” Charlotte said, pointing.

“He’s got a new girlfriend,” April whispered in his ear. “We don’t like her.”

“Girls, don’t be so hard on your dad. If he likes her, give her a fair shake, eh?”

Both girls started to giggle.

“What?”

“You just said ‘eh’ like Auntie Moira does,” Charlotte said, kissing him again, and then they both went running toward the house.

Fuck, he had, too! He hoped like hell the girls wouldn’t tell her or she’d be giving him the gears for the next month, he thought with a smile. He got to his feet, as Dane approached with a beautiful woman on his arm.

Dane hadn’t been around for a while. In fact, he hadn’t been to visit since the night he’d told him how much he wanted Moira. They’d talked on the phone, but the tension hadn’t dissolved yet, so they’d put some distance between themselves.

“Steven.” Dane reached his fisted hand out.

He fisted his own and banged it on top of Dane’s. Since they were young, they’d greeted each other this way after an argument. They’d had plenty over the years, being brothers, but none had affected him as deeply. Steven’s eyes veered to the lithe, blonde woman who stood a step behind Dane.

“Lydia, I’d like you meet my brother Steven.”

She smiled warmly. “You didn’t tell me you were a twin. You both look so alike. That’s rare for adult twins.” She leaned forward, extending her hand. “Hi, Steven, it’s nice to meet you.”

He shook her hand. She seemed nice. At least she was somewhere around their age, which was a good start for Dane. He knew himself that bedding twenty-year-olds was nothing but trouble.

“Auntie Moira, Auntie Moira, you’ll never guess what Uncle Steven just said,” he heard from the patio. He rolled his eyes.

Dane turned, hearing the girls, but not understanding.

“What, girls, what?” Moira gathered them in her arms for a big hug.

“Uncle Steven just said ehhhhh,” they mimicked, drawing it out, and then burst into giggles.

“Oh shit, here it comes,” Steven said. It wasn’t just Moira who burst out laughing. He started getting catcalls from the entire gathering.

“Hey, you turncoat,” his cousin Abe yelled out. “Should we buy you a toque and a pair of galoshes, ehhhh?” he jibed, lifting his beer in the air at him. “How about singing the Kokanee song for us!”

He waved the hamburger flipper in the air, shaking his head. “Great, now I’m never going to hear the end of it. Those girls of yours get me into a lot of trouble,” he said, chuckling.

“They love Moira that’s for sure,” Dane said with a rueful grin. “We all do.”

“So do I, for the rest of my life.”

Lydia stood quietly with her hands clasped together, looking uncomfortable suddenly.

“If you don’t mind me saying from a purely medical point of view, it’s amazing you’re identical, and about the two hottest-looking men on the planet.”

“That’s a medical perspective?” Dane said.

She nodded. “Well, maybe part woman, part doctor.”

“Thanks, Lydia,” he said, grinning at the compliment. “Why don’t you get Dane to make you a drink?” he offered. “And I’m sure Moira would love to meet you.”

“That sounds like a good idea. I’d like to meet her, too,” Lydia said.

He didn’t miss the dark glance Dane gave him. At least he was trying, he thought. Nice-looking woman, too.

* * * *

She and Lydia got along right away. Lydia practiced medicine at a clinic in Beverly Hills. Even Dane and Steven’s mother Gail gave her a warm shoulder. The ladies relaxed around the patio table, chatting about the wedding and enjoying each other’s company after dinner, while the men sat around the enormous firepit, having drinks.

Lydia leaned in to Moira and said, “If you don’t mind me saying, they’re both exceptional men.”

She knew what she meant. “Yes, they are.” With Steven’s mother sitting right beside her she didn’t want to sing Steven’s praises over his brother who she had stayed away from all afternoon, except when she’d been setting the meal on the table. She’d stood next to him for a split second. Immediately he wrapped his arm around her hips, and told her the meal looked fantastic. Steven hadn’t missed that move either, and he’d burned his brother with a gaze.